


Rock of Ages

by enigmaticblue



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just need the presence of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock of Ages

Scully breaks the news to Assistant Director Skinner that she’s not coming back to the X-Files in person. After everything Skinner has done for her—for _them_ —she feels as though she owes him that much, and she wants to offer some reason for Mulder’s disappearance.

 

Her mom had agreed to take the baby for the afternoon, allowing Scully to run her errands and fill Skinner in on the changes. Scully is trying hard not to be resentful of Mulder’s absence, and she’s mostly been successful.

 

Skinner takes the news of her departure with characteristic stoicism, nodding briefly. “I see. You’ve decided to take the job at Quantico, then.”

 

She’s not surprised that he knows about the offer. “I think it will be better, especially with William.”

 

“Regular hours would be nice,” Skinner replies with a hint of a smile. “And Mulder?”

 

Scully swallows hard. “He’s pursuing some leads out of town. He doesn’t want to put us in danger.”

 

She hadn’t been all that surprised when Mulder announced his intention to leave. And maybe Mulder wants keep them safe, but she suspects that they’ll be in danger as long as there are conspiracies. Mulder may have pled imminent danger as his reason to run, but Scully knows that the truth is somewhat more complicated.

 

Isn’t it always?

 

She doesn’t know how many of those undercurrents Skinner senses. All he says is, “I see.”

 

She’s grateful when he expresses no opinion on Mulder’s departure. Even one word of sympathy would probably cause her fragile control to crumble, and she’s not ready for that.

 

“I have a gift for the baby, but I don’t have it with me. Can I drop it by tonight?” he asks.

 

Scully nods. “Of course. Any time after seven would be fine.”

 

She escapes then, feeling a bit as though she’s fleeing her old life, fleeing the X-Files and its attendant weirdness, fleeing Doggett, who won’t understand why she’s leaving. She wonders if this is how Mulder had felt, leaving her apartment a few days ago, suitcase in hand—as though his past was a burden he could no longer shoulder.

 

~~~~~

 

Scully juggles bags of groceries on the way up to her apartment, grateful that she doesn’t have to carry William as well. Her mom is watching over the baby while Scully unloads the car, although Scully knows she has to hurry; her mom has a dinner date with friends tonight, which is why they aren’t eating together.

 

There are so many things she hadn’t considered when deciding to become a single parent, like how she’s supposed to carry groceries to her apartment with a baby in tow. She can’t leave William in the car, and she’s uncomfortable leaving him alone in the apartment. Her mom has been a huge help, but she has her own life to live.

 

The irony is that Scully hadn’t depended on Mulder while pregnant; he had been gone, and she hadn’t known whether she would ever see him again. When they’d brought Mulder back, when he’d slept in her arms, Scully had allowed herself to believe that she wouldn’t have to raise their child alone.

 

The complicated truth of the matter is that Mulder had wanted _Scully_ to have a child; he hadn’t necessarily wanted a child of his own. She doesn’t blame him for it, but she had begun to allow herself to imagine life with Mulder _and_ William.

 

And now she has to do it on her own, and she feels the disappointment keenly. For a brief moment, Scully had been given a glimpse of that perfect life she’d wanted for so long, only to be disappointed when it turned out to be a mirage.

 

Scully gives her mom a brief hug and watches as she flies out the door. She settles William on a blanket in the living room and puts a teething ring in his hand, hoping that will keep him occupied while she heats a frozen dinner.

 

William grins at her as she eats hurriedly, squealing and making other baby sounds, and Scully talks back to him. These sounds have made up her days these last few weeks. As much as she loves being the center of William’s world, Scully has missed adult interaction. Up until now, Scully’s work has been largely cerebral, filled with intellectual pursuit.

 

With William, Scully thinks only of diapers and bottles and _now_. She wishes for adult conversation, for adult help, but Scully has so few friends, so few family members, to ask for assistance. She has her mother, but that’s about it. She’s lost touch with most of her friends; the X-Files had taken up her entire life.

 

Scully misses having friends; she misses having someone other than Mulder to lean on.

 

She misses _Mulder_.

 

When the knock on the door comes, she’s almost forgotten that Skinner had promised to stop by.

 

Skinner holds a gift that shows all the hallmarks of being professionally wrapped, and a bottle of wine. “I thought you might be able to get some use out of this,” Skinner says, holding up the bottle of wine.

 

Scully smiles. “Come in, sir.”

 

Skinner steps inside and hands her the exquisitely wrapped gift. “Sorry it’s so late.”

 

“It’s no problem,” she assures him. “The fun never stops.”

 

William begins to fuss, and Scully picks him up, trying to soothe him. “Sorry, sir.”

 

“I don’t mind,” he replies, and he lowers his voice. “How are you doing?”

 

His sympathy undoes her. Scully’s eyes burn, and she feels the tremors begin to run through her body. William begins to wail, most likely picking up on her distress, and Scully can only watch helplessly as Skinner plucks William from her arms.

 

Skinner’s big hands handle William with more competence than she expects. Skinner settles the baby in the crook of his left arm as he turns his back to Scully, bouncing William with low, crooning words.

 

Scully is absurdly grateful for Skinner’s diplomacy, which gives her time to collect herself while he takes care of the baby. She breathes deeply, pushing the tears back, wiping away the few that escape.

 

By the time she turns around, William is sleeping peacefully in Skinner’s arms, and Skinner is staring down at William’s tiny face, a fond smile on his lips.

 

Skinner has never expressed a desire to be near William, or to hold him, and she has to wonder what’s changed his mind.

 

“You haven’t opened your gift,” Skinner observes quietly, and Scully perches on the edge of the couch to do so.

 

Skinner gingerly settles himself into the recliner, patting William’s back absently when the baby offers a murmured complaint.

 

The wrapped box turns out to hold various sizes of clothing, and Scully smiles, picturing Skinner shopping.

 

“I asked one of the sales ladies to make a recommendation,” he confesses. “I was a little out of my depth.”

 

“You seem to be doing just fine right now,” Scully observes, watching William sleeping peacefully, secure in Skinner’s arms.

 

Skinner smiles, although the expression appears a little foreign on his face. “I’ve faced worse things than one baby,” he says. “I think I can handle it.”

 

Scully draws in a shaky breath. “I guess I probably can as well.”

 

“You’re going to be fine,” Skinner promises, his voice low and intense.

 

Scully has made a habit of believing Skinner over the years, and this doesn’t seem like the time to start doubting him. “I know,” she says. “It’s just an adjustment.”

 

Skinner glances down at William, his expression bemused. “You know, if you have something that needs to get done, I don’t mind sitting right here.”

 

Scully almost refuses, but then she takes in the relaxed set of Skinner’s shoulders, and the amusement in his eyes, and she smiles. Skinner has been a rock for years now, an absolutely steady presence in her life, and she’s absurdly grateful for him right now.

 

She’s going to miss working for him, she thinks. She’ll miss Skinner having her back—hers and Mulder’s.

 

But then, maybe she won’t have to miss him at all.

 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asks, thinking of a few things she could get done while Skinner keeps William placated.

 

“Not at all,” he says. “We’re fine right where we are, aren’t we, William?”

 

Scully wonders what the other agents at the FBI—the ones who call Skinner “stone-face” behind his back—would think if they could see him now, and she finds that she doesn’t care.

 

Skinner still offers the same rock-steady support he has in the years before Mulder’s abduction, that he had while Mulder had been missing, that he had when Mulder had been dead. Skinner is simply _present_ , and Scully feels herself relax.

 

Maybe, just maybe, this will be enough.


End file.
